Crashin' Thrashin'
by Dawndragon the Storyteller
Summary: Mayhem ensues when an uppity night elf is "attacked" by a member of the opposite faction.


After a week of assisting in the assault against the Illidari in Shadowmoon Valley, being attacked in the Aldor bank in Shattrath City was just about the last thing Elira Shadewing was expecting. And she most certainly didn't expect that her attacker would only be about as tall as her boots.

The whole ordeal began as she was turning in her Marks of the Illidari to the quartermaster. She wasn't even halfway through her sentence about the current state of the conflict in Shadowmoon when she experienced a sharp pain in the back of her head. "Agh!" she cried, searching for the culprit. To her surprise, it was a small, toy-grade ammunition pellet.

Rubbing the back of her head angrily, she turned to see where the pellet had come from. Not a few feet away from her hovered a small, remote-controlled zeppelin. The bearer of the remote appeared to be an orc, likely a warrior judging upon his heavy armor and weapons. He seemed to be in a trance-like state, as though not sure whether he should apologize or try and make light of the situation.

Elira just sighed. "Watch where you shoot that thing," she grumbled, fully aware that he most likely couldn't understand her. He muttered something in Orcish that she assumed to be an apology, so she turned back to continue in her business as she was before she was interrupted.

Of course, that would not be the case. It was only a moment before she found herself once again in the sights of the zeppelin's miniature weapons. Another sharp pain to the back of her head and the sound of laughter from the orc told Elira that this was no accident. This. Was. War.

"You'll have to excuse me for a moment," the night elf told the amused quartermaster. She whirled around and made straight for the orc. "So, you want to play games with me?" she asked irritably. "In case you hadn't heard, it's not wise to invoke the anger of a rogue. Truly, you're quite lucky to be standing in a sanctuary, because otherwise you'd be-" She was interrupted by yet another pellet hitting her in the back of the head. If annoyance was ever embodied in one being, it was her in that moment. The orc said something, smirking at her. "Oh... it's on," she growled.

There was a flash of smoke, in which the orc was able to see nothing. When the smoke cleared, he only had a moment to react as a remote-controlled plane swooped down from overhead and opened fire upon his zeppelin. "Eat pellets, Horde scum!" cried Elira as she smashed the controls on her remote. "Desideratus bellum!" It was only a moment before the once-proud little zeppelin was completely and utterly obliterated.

The orc said something that can only be assumed to be a curse of some sort. Elira stared at him challengingly. "Bring it," she sneered.

And thus, the Crashin' Thrashin' War of the Aldor Bank broke out in full force. Where one toy fell, another rose to take its place. By the time they were through, both Elira and her adversary had gone through enough toys to put Greatfather Winter out of business, and then some. Finally, they were both escorted out of the bank so that those of mature conduct could go about their affairs without being caught in the crossfire. "Honestly, are you supposed to be children or heroes?" grumbled the banker, shaking his head as he returned to his post.

A moment of silence ensued. The two of them looked at one another for a long time. Then, the orc began to laugh. "I don't see what's so funny," Elira said pointedly, although she was biting back a smile. "I mean, it's not like two highly-skilled and very important fighters of the two factions were just reduced to waging war on one another with children's play things. That would be completely ridiculous! Completely unheard of." At this point, she was legitimately smiling.

Once the two of them were able to look at each other without bursting into giddy laughter, the orc spoke. "I'm sorry," Elira said. "I'm not quite fluent in Orcish." His reply was likely the mirror of her statement. Realizing that their language barrier would be an issue, he instead reached into his pack and pulled out a tiny bird figurine as well as a small piece of parchment. He scribbled a note on the parchment, then handed them both to her. Elira was now the one standing speechless. "I- er- thank you." She smiled and nodded appreciatively at the orc. He bowed in return, then walked away.

Elira stood there for a moment, trying to take it all in. The irony of it was that, had they not been in a sanctuary, she likely wouldn't have hesitated to attack the poor orc on the spot, and who knows how well that would have turned out? Likely not good for either party. All this over a silly toy zeppelin. As it went, the two of them had waged their mini war and were able to laugh the whole ordeal off as just an off-afternoon spent killing time. Elira laughed to herself. It was nice to have some light moments scattered throughout the eons of heavy darkness that were war. She stuffed the figurine and note into her bag, then disembarked to meet up with her allies.

Later on, Elira was with her allies in the inn they were staying at when she came across the note again. "Does anyone here read Orcish?" she asked them. A few bewildered glances were exchanged, but Nik Tinkernote confirmed that he did. She handed him the note. "What does this say?" she asked. Nik examined the message. "Do forgive me if I'm a bit rusty," he said, squinting at the messy handwriting, "but I believe it says, 'Consider this a peace treaty, my worthy opponent.'" Elira smiled, thanked him, and refused to answer anyone's questions for the rest of the night.

* * *

 **AN:** Hey all! Happy Winter Veil!

This goofy little one-shot was inspired by a similar event in-game over the Thanksgiving holiday. Shout-out to Slayxidk, that orc death knight from Shattrath whom this story wouldn't be possible without!

Don't be shy to leave a review! Thanks for reading, and have a safe and wonderful holiday!


End file.
